Dark Matter Revisited
by ErinFaie
Summary: Don/Charlie. An interpretation of the the episode Dark Matter, ep 2.19.


**Title:** Dark Matter Revisited  
**Chapter:** 1/1  
**Author:** ErinFaie (a.k.a. starlettmalfoy)  
**Pairing:** Don/Charlie  
**Rating:** PG-13, for the slashy incest themes  
**Spoilers:** Mid-season 3  
**Word Count:** 836  
**Warning:** Undertones of incest, Pre-slash  
**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs doesn't belong to me, nor do the characters. No matter how much I dream about it at night. .  
**Author's notes:** I couldn't help but write this - the end of the episode was just begging for it. For those of you who would like a refresher, I actually found the clip here. Fair warning: It's exactly this scene, with a bit of introspective-ness from everyone's favourite mathematician. Enjoy!

**Dark Matter Revisited**

"Where's Big Papa?" Charlie entered the living room to find Don sitting in the chair, reading. He studied his brother for a moment, admiring the way the dim light of the lamps refracted off of Don's face in subtle, beautiful angles, giving him a sharp featured look.

"Caterer."

He shook himself from his admirations and focused on what Don had said. "Ah, gettin' serious..."

"Nah, I just think he doesn't wanna have to cook, you know?." He looked at Charlie from over his shoulder, a smirk sliding onto his features. Charlie's throat constricted sightly as they made eye contact for a second, before ducking his face, trying to conceal the flush that rose to his skin.

Looking for something to keep the conversation going, he glanced down, frowning as he realized what his brother was holding. A newspaper clipping, detailing the shooters from the case they just closed. The three kids' unblinking eyes stared at them both from the page, and Charlie held back a shudder of revulsion and horror.

"You never get enough?"

Don glanced back to the paper again and sighed quietly. "Look, what do you want from me? I like seeing how they spin it, you know?" His jaw clenched briefly, and Charlie knew then just how upset his big brother really was. He longed to pull Don into a hug, holding him to make the terrors go away.

Instead, he crossed the room, sitting on the sofa next to Don's chair. Charlie's face was heavy, drawn, mimicking Don's perfectly. "You think anybody _really_ knows how any of this stuff happens?"

The older man shook his head slightly. "Definitely not."

Charlie tried not to wince at Don's casually dismissive tone.

_I just don't understand him sometimes. How can Don be so wrapped up in a case, and yet the second it closes, shut down? If it weren't for the fact that the percentages of probability (not to mention reality and logic) were against it, I'd have Larry start doing experiments to see if he was fully human..._

But of course Don didn't really know what those kids were going through. He'd always been the popular one, the athletic one, while Charlie tagged behind him, putting twists on differential equations and finding new ways to calculate vector potentials. He shook his head, "I know that when I was in high school, I was so... ahh... angst-ridden."

Don looked at his younger brother, a crease in the center of his forehead as he (yet again) tried to understand Charlie. "Yeah, but you didn't shoot anybody."

"No, but there were days when I wanted to do, you know..." He shook his fist, not in anger, but symbolizing past angers. "Real-real damage to..." He forced himself to finish, trying to make his voice lighter at the end, "To you."

_And myself. I hated myself sometimes._

Don looked at his brother incredulously, "To me?" He tried not to, but the snicker that issued forth came anyway, and Charlie blushed and grinned, embarrassed at once harbouring ill thoughts towards the most important person in his life. "Hey, buddy, take your best shot. C'mon. Oh wait, I'll help you out - I'll get on my knees." He set his paper down quickly and slid off of the chair and he slid down to his knees, fists raised like a boxer. "C'mon!"

Charlie looked away, uncomfortably, trying to keep the smile on his face. He stood, hoping the movement might help the blood flow to more productive areas of his body. His Adam's apple bobbed as the sight on his own _brother_ on his knees in front of him caused a spike of heat to flood to his groin.

"I'm not a kid anymore." Now that he was standing, he realized his problem wasn't going anywhere and backed up into the couch.

Which was a good thing, since Don started swinging and jabbing at him lightly. "Alright, tough guy, we should step outside! Let's go!" He taunted as he swung. Charlie flinched away, smiling still, and brought his hands up, mostly in self-defense. He placed one on Don's head, arm stretched so that Don couldn't lean forward anymore, effectively putting distance between the fists and Charlie's body. Swearing internally, his knees almost gave way as he felt the spiky, gelled locks under his chalk-stained fingers. Holding himself together, he went with the game, taunting back, "How 'bout now, how 'bout now, huh?"

They continued until Don managed to get in a good smack to Charlie's face. Don recoiled just a bit and threw up his hands as Charlie playfully spat, "You got nothin'!"

"Alright, alright, alright." Don smiled in surrender, slowly rising up from his now-sore knees. "How 'bout we just get a pizza?"

"No, I don't wanna go out, man, I just got home... You know, there's a lovely pot roast in the fridge."

"Nah, that's a week old! C'mon."

"How do you know that? Oh, of course - you eat here more than I do."

"I'll pay, how's that?"

Charlie smiled and followed his brother out the door, trying rather unsuccessfully to quell the joy that rose in his chest as a familiar arm was slung around his shoulders.

****  
Comments are love, as always.


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